


the nights we won't remember are the nights we won't remember

by liquidsky



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fraternity, Gen, Talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:00:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21879259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liquidsky/pseuds/liquidsky
Summary: And the thing was that Sam knew Steve knew Bucky hadn’t fucked Sam, because he wasn’t stupid, which meant he was playing at something, and Sam had known Steve long enough to parse out his attempted mind games. Sam rolled his eyes at him, squinting when Steve smirked.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson
Comments: 5
Kudos: 11





	the nights we won't remember are the nights we won't remember

“Holy fucking shit,” Sam bellowed, sitting up from where he’d been sprawled across the grass in their shitty litter-covered backyard, which looked more or less like the _after_ picture on one of those nightmarish nuclear power documentaries Steve liked to watch, “What _happened_ last night?”

Bucky winced, pushing his hair back before squinting at Sam and saying, “No fucking clue.” 

“You, uh–” Sam cocked his head at the particular purple-looking bruise coloring the hollow of Bucky’s throat, “I mean.”

Last night had been off-putting, to say the least, and Sam wasn’t even the kind of guy to comment on shit like that, but there was probably something to be reviewed about the current state of Bucky. He wondered where Steve was – he’d been puking his lungs out the last time Sam’d seen him, kneeling by the toilet with a pink piece of gum stuck to the back of his head. Bucky didn’t look any better. If anything, he somehow looked _worse_ ; eyes crusty, his neck and jaw covered in hickeys, t-shirt stretched too far around the collar. 

“We gotta stop drinking,” said Bucky, folding himself down to the floor so he could lounge next to Sam. He covered his eyes with a hand, sighing loudly. “Like, this can’t be normal.”

Sam laughed, a short, breathy thing that had Bucky shooting him a glare, “Speak for yourself,” Sam said, not to be a dick or anything, mostly just because _he_ was alright. Sure, last night he’d gotten high and watched Steve give Thor head for about twenty minutes with half a mind to try and join them, but that wasn’t too unlike him. He’d done way worse – one might have gone as far as to say that Sam had _matured_. Bucky wouldn’t be caught dead saying that, and Steve probably wouldn’t agree unless the alternative was literal torture, but, well. 

“I’m so fucking tired,” Bucky complained, shifting around on the grass in a sad attempt of getting Sam to let him rest his head on Sam’s thighs. 

Sam let him, watching Bucky close his eyes for a second before pushing his head off him and onto the grass. Bucky cursed, and Sam snorted, adding, “That’s what you get.” 

“This is worse than I deserve.”

“Who’s to say,” Sam told him, before pulling Bucky’s head up again by the hair, “Anyway, who’d you fuck last night?”

Bucky didn’t answer – it wasn’t _like_ him, exactly, because Bucky wasn’t much of an asshole, but he was known to enjoy boasting about the better half of his hookups. Sam had _way_ too much dirt on a good part of their football team, at least the ones Bucky had talked into letting him fuck them. It was a talent of his, which Sam admired, even if Bucky acted all blasé about it. Like it was no big deal. Sam knew Bucky found it _gauche_ to look desperate, and he’d heard most of Bucky’s attempts at talking sense into Steve so he’d stop clutching Thor’s heels like an overgrown golden retriever. Indifferent or not, withholding info wasn’t Bucky’s style – he’d act high and mighty about shit, but, unless he was caught up in Steve crap, he’d talk about it. 

“What?” Sam finally asked, “None of the Bruins pay you a visit?”

Bucky blinked back at him, mouth moving wordlessly before he apparently deemed Sam worthy of an answer, “I don’t–”

“Dude.” 

“Just–whatever, I don’t actually remember.” Bucky shared, shutting his eyes again. Sam threaded his fingers through Bucky’s hair, pushing them against Bucky’s oily scalp. He was a fucking mess, complete with the small whimper he let out at the soft pressure. Sam plopped back down and kept messing with Bucky’s hair, in blissful silence until Steve poked his head out the door and caught them.

“I feel like death,” Steve announced, walking lopsidedly and shuffling down to join them. Sam watched with raised brows as he pulled a joint out of the pocket of his bright green swim shorts. Bucky didn’t bother opening his eyes, so Sam had to conjure an appropriate amount of judgement all on his own. 

“How’s your throat?”

Steve smirked at him, lighter in hand, and Sam was satisfied to notice it looked less attractive than usual, with how Steve matched the backyard decór to a tee. Garbage warmed over. “Great, actually.”

“You’re a slut,” Bucky mumbled, though he sounded vaguely impressed, “Have you fucked him yet?”

“Trying to get him to fuck me.” Steve answered, leaning over to pass Sam the joint before saying, “What about you? Who’s the vampire?”

Bucky huffed, so Sam snorted again, “He doesn’t know.”

“And I’m the slut.”

“That’s why we’re friends.” Bucky said, “Who’s to say I didn’t get it from you.”

“Because I was getting so much pussy way back when, huh.”

“Don’t see you getting any now.”

Steve smirked again, pushing forward to blow some smoke right on Bucky’s face. Bucky’s nose twitched, and Steve pressed a small kiss to its upturned curve before glancing up at Sam with a grin. “Not my choice of dessert nowadays.”

“Was it ever?” Bucky said, lifting a hand that Steve ignored, “ _That_ I definitely got from you,” he added, and Steve rolled his eyes. 

Sam poked Bucky’s side, “The nasty humor?”

“The dick sucking habit,” Bucky replied, smiling to himself when Steve laughed. Sam knew that – well, not about the dick sucking thing, though it wasn’t surprising. They’d grown up together, the two of them, and their first two years at UCLA were nothing if not putting on a show. Childhood best friends, attached at the hip, disturbingly attractive, ruthlessly athletic, just charming enough to blend in with ease. There had always been something slightly off about them, especially together. It was more enticing than it should have been, really, until Steve had decided that Sam had earned some sort of next-level clearing into their crappy upbringing, right around the time he’d pulled Bucky out of his two-hundredth bout of trouble. Since then it’d been just–they were fine, Sam guessed, blinking at Steve and watching his smile grow significantly wider. He pressed his fingers harder against Bucky’s scalp, grinning back at Steve. 

“I showed him the ropes,” Steve told him, and that finally got Bucky to open his eyes. 

Staring up at them, he said, “You showed me _something_ alright.”

“Should I ask?” 

Steve licked his lips before taking another hit, blue eyes going heavy-lidded with the high, “Probably not,” exhaling around a mouthful of smoke, he continued, “How’s our suspects list?” 

“None of the usuals,” Bucky said, then, “Wait, maybe Reed?”

Sam made a noise, saying “He didn’t come last night,” and realized too late that Steve had his eyes trained on the small movements of his hand as it tangled through Bucky’s hair. He looked up, and Steve raised an eyebrow at him.

“Well,” said Bucky, “I’ve got nothing.”

Watching Steve, Sam wondered if maybe he should do something about the funny twist his mouth had going, but he wasn’t fast enough. Steve passed the joint to Bucky, “Are we sure it wasn’t someone we know?”

“We know everyone.”

“But, like,” Steve said, “Where were you last night, Sam?”

And the thing was that Sam knew Steve knew Bucky hadn’t fucked Sam, because he wasn’t stupid, which meant he was playing at something, and Sam had known Steve long enough to parse out his attempted mind games. Sam rolled his eyes at him, squinting when Steve smirked. 

Bucky huffed out a laugh, “Trust me, I would know if I fucked Sam,” too fucking casual about it. Sam glanced down at him, surprised, and Steve tilted his head for a millisecond, looking confused, except it had turned into something else by the time Sam peered back at him and he was asking, “Like, how?” all amused and knowing. 

Sam sighed.

“Dude,” Bucky glanced up at Steve, then at Sam, “I’ve seen your dick, like, I’d _know_.”

“That’s–” Sam was starting to say, but Steve interrupted him with a poke to the leg, “What?”

Steve was the worst–”What, what?” before smiling at Bucky again, “Is it big?”

“Don’t talk about my dick as if I’m not here,” Sam admonished, and Bucky snorted, but he kept looking at Steve instead of at Sam, so Sam couldn’t do much but follow his eyes and end up catching the brunt of Steve’s shitty know-it-allness. 

The day was getting hot, a stifling sort of early afternoon, and Sam felt all the more sweaty caught between the warm back and forth that passed from Steve’s grin to Bucky’s frown, with their annoying engagement in the world’s most infuriating silent communication. They stared at each other for a full minute while Sam tried his best not to fidget and ended up fidgeting anyway. 

“Alright,” Steve agreed, finally, though Sam had no idea what to. He glanced down at Bucky, except Bucky had already closed his eyes, and Steve obnoxiously refused to meet his when Sam tried him instead. 

“You,” Sam announced, “are such fucking assholes.”

Steve took another hit of his joint, holding it in for a second before exhaling. A hot puff of smoke fanning against Sam’s lips, Steve’s smile edging on delighted, “No shit, Sam.”

**Author's Note:**

> like, i guess this is what a childhood built on goddamned _american pie: beta house_ will do to you. or something. (like, they _are_ going to fuck soon). also, i apparently have _two_ different frat AUs happening here - steve's sexuality crisis doesn't exist in this one, so... yeah!


End file.
